 | The Disappointment : or the Mother in Fashion |  |
9
Act II.
Scene I.
Enter Alphonso.Alph.
I parted with Lorenzo on my promise,
To see my Wife, and yet I loyter here
In a perplexing maze of crowding doubts:
I'll think no more on't: Ha—Alberto here!—
Enter Alberto.
Alb.
Alphonso! I have met you luckily.
I came to find you out.
Alph.
I am glad my Lord
Your trouble's at an end, and I am found.
Alb.
Our Master the great Duke—
Alph.
Sir, what of him?
Alb.
Has sent me to you.
Alph.
O he honours me,
Too much of late, beyond a Subjects thanks:
What will this come to?
[aside.
Alb.
Hearing that you have left the Court.
Alb.
For that
There's a necessity calls every man
Into his own concerns, and Business, Sir,
In spight of Fortune, will usurp sometimes.
Alb.
Twas something sure of moment, unexpected,
Cou'd cause that haste, at which the Court admires.
Alph.
Why Sir admire? is it a miracle
To find a Courtier honest, at his house
With his own Wife! 'tis hardly Treason this,
Nor would I have it an offence to any.
Alb.
O! none at all: but yet the Duke that knows
Persons of your esteem, and quality
Make the full blaze of honour in his Court,
Would have you alwaies near him: therefore Sir,
To night he makes a publick entertainment,
Where you and your fair Lady are his Guests.
Alph.
Sits the wind there!
[aside.
He over honours me, and I shall think
My self too poor, and thankless a return
For this high Grace: pray let his Highness know,
My Sword and Fortune wait upon his will.
But I am ill at measures, and must beg
10
Alb.
Your Lady dances well.
Alph.
Y'are in the right my Lord: she does indeed;
She sings well too: if I may be a Judg,
Who am her Husband, exquisitely well;
Yet who would think it?
Alb.
What?
Alph.
Nay you, my Lord,
Are out at Miracles; and this indeed
Requires a Husbands faith: Yet you shall hear it;
My Wife (how prompted she can only tell!)
Tho bred up to the pleasures of the Court,
With all those entertaining qualities,
That men admire, and Women envy,
Young, as she is, now, when her blood might well
Employ her Beauty in its proper use;
Faints in the fury of her appetite:
And, (what I must confess I blush to own)
She foolishly affects a Huswives praise
Amongst her Maids, and spins her Youth away.
Is not this strange?
Alb.
O most impossible!
Alph.
That I expected, and indeed I grant you.
This vulgar, wife-like vertue, huswifry,
In a young Lady, is scandalously old,
Quite out of fashion and must be forgotten.
Alb.
You cannot be in earnest?
Alph.
O my Lord!
Marriage would mainly help your unbelief.
[Exit.
Alb.
As hanging cures the Tooth-ach; Go thy way
Old jealousie: tho I have fail'd in this:
Clara fights wary, and can never miss.
[Exit.
Scene changes to Erminia's Chamber.
A SONG by an unknown hand.
Poor , ill-instructed, wretched Woman-kind!
Decre'd by Fate,
Preposterously to Love and Hate;
Our feeble Mind
Yields up the Keyes of our ill-guarded Treasure,
To Tyrant Man, whose arbitrary reign
Scarce gives us Will, or Power to complain:
Us and our Passions they inchain;
The fleeting pleasure
Holds no proportion with the lasting Pain.
11
Who hast my Honour, wouldst my name deface,
Cease thy pursuing,
To my undoing.
Since all the cruel Perjuries I prove,
Do but exalt the merit of my Love,
And whilst thy Falshood immortal proves to me,
My Love aspires to Immortality.
Enter Erminia and Clara.
Erm.
My melancholy thoughts are all employ'd
On those hard-fated Maids, that are bought in,
By some poor circumstance of Interest,
To the eternal Slavery of life.
Clar.
Ah! who that sees in you the marriage joys,
Will ever trust their Freedom with a Man?
Erm.
In me! I am most happy in content:
I love the hand that layes this load upon me,
And shall although it sink me to my Grave:
O Clara! this were wretchedness indeed;
This usage, were beyond the reach of patience,
From any, but Alphonso, him I love,
Him, whom my Heart hangs after for its peace.
Clar.
In him, 'Tis Tyranny to use you thus.
Erm.
O! I am run behind-hand with my Love:
I have not yet discounted for those Sums,
Those endless Sums of Joys; that made me happy:
And these are but the poor compounding tears;
The Scene of sorrow the bare interest.
Which I will pay, till he remits the debt,
And takes me to the comfort of his Bosom.
Enter Alphonso.
Alph.
He sends for me, invites me to the Court,
To bring my Wife to Court; now the great Duke
Appears himself, and claims me for his Cuckold.
What! bring my Wife to Court! Damnation! none
But I to bawd to my disgrace; sure something
Appears upon me, spiritless and poor,
That marks me for that Office, in his eye:
He durst not else have done it:—
I believe her honest yet:
Her Body not acquainted with the Sin,
But if her thoughts run foul, her mind's a Whore:
And the next oportunity compleats
My black dishonour.
Clar.
Madam my Lord.
Alph.
Mistris, you.
I guess your reverend function by your face.
12
Canst thou inform me of thy Ladies thoughts!
How they're employ'd! on whom? O tell me that,
And I will yet believe thou may'st live on
Some years in Sin, before th'art to be damn'd.
Clar.
Good Heaven defend, my Lord!
Alph.
Nay, then thou art a praying Chamber-Bawd
And truth abhors thee. Foh! how she stinks o'th Office.
[thrusts her out.
Erm.
My Lord! my much lov'd Lord!
How has my ignorance betray'd my peace,
And rob'd me of your Love? Alass I own,
Freely confess the frailties of my Sex,
With all its forms and follies here before you:
Oh then if I have blindly stumbled on
A fault, in pity to my weakness, you My Lord, will pardon it.
Alph.
Does the remembrance of any Sin Upbraid your thoughts?
Erm.
My Sins are infinite, As is the mercy of relenting Heaven.
But I defie my Memory, combin'd
With the severest malice of my Fate,
Since the first happy minute of our Loves,
To point me to a Crime against my Lord.
Al.
What! not in thought Erminia?
Erm.
No, indeed! Not even in thought, as I do hope for Heaven!
Alph.
Then where's the need of pardon? You are justify'd:
Erm.
Alas! I do beseech you on my knees,
With streaming eyes, and a poor bleeding heart
Inform me: Let that Tempest on your Brow,
Fall on the wretched Head of lost Erminia;
But speak! O let my accusation come,
And tell what I have done to move you thus.
Alph.
Damnation! done! Speak answer me! what, done!
Erm.
Alas! what means my Lord?
Alph.
Have you done any thing? that thus your guilt betrays you to the question?
Erm.
Indeed I know of nothing to offend you.
Alph.
O, were it come to that, did I but once
Conceive a slight suspition of the deed; It were not time for words—
Erminia, I believe y've done no fault.
Erm.
Then I am happy in my Innocence.
Alph.
There's not a line in all that beauteous Face,
That promises the picture of a Whore;
By Heav'n! she should be honest to the Soul;
O! I could curse that first seducing Priest,
Who with false reasons triumph'd o'er the World,
And reconcil'd Mankind to Slavery:
Whilst he, and all that reverend, fatted Tribe,
Skill'd in the Arts of Luxury, and Ease,
Wisely refus'd the Doctrines that they taught,
And only damn'd the Layity to a Wife.
Erm.
Did you not name your Wife?
Alph.
I did Ermenia; And with a Curse upon the cunning Priest,
That conjur'd us together in a Yoak, that galls me now.
Erm.
Wou'd I had never been, or never liv'd to hear you Curse me from you.
13
No I will ever bless to my Grave.
Erm.
Will you! then sure, oh sure, you cannot hate!
Alph.
By Heaven and Earth! I never can, Erminia!
No: by th'eternal Majesty that aws me,
I languish with the fondness of my Love,
Still doat, and fain would keep thee to my heart:
Oh! thou 'rt the very fountain of my joyes,
The spirit of my peace, my spring of Life,
All that my wishes would, or Heaven can give:
Yet, oh eternal Torment to my Love!
We must, we must Erminia.—
Erm.
What my Lord? O sure my heart informs me of my fate:
What must we?
Alph.
'Tis Heaven alone can tell,
How fatally the secret struggles here!
With what impetuous force it beats my Breast;
And tears away my quiet in its way;
Therefore, it comes. O! we must part for ever:
I can no more. Farewell.
[she follows him.
Erm.
This, and all's well. Remember poor Erminia in her Grave.
[she swoons.
Alph.
She sinks, she's gone: Erminia! stay, my life!
O I conjure you by those thousand hours
Of softest joyes, that melted in thy arms;
And by those thousand years of Love to come,
I charge you stay.
Erm.
Sure 'tis the voice of Love,
That summons me to life, and my Alphonso.
Alph.
Look up, Erminia! see, I'm rooted here,
Fix'd to thy fate, and cannot live without thee.
There are ten thousand blessings yet behind,
Untasted by the palate of our Loves,
That wait to Crown our Dayes and Nights together.
And oh my heart can never think of Joy,
Nor move me one step onward to my peace,
Without the partner of my happiness.
Erm.
Am I? Then sure we must not part?
Alph.
O never. Forget the guilty thought, as I have done.
Thou something dearer to me than my Life!
Grow to my Heart, for ever fix thee here;
Till time, long Ages hence, shall call us down,
Old, and embracing, to one Grave together.
Erm.
Then I am truly happy; Yet my Lord,
(Forgive the folly of a Womans fears)
If your late Coldness ever shou'd return,
No wretchedness on Earth could equal mine.
Alph.
Drive me not back, upon my memory,
But take me to thy Arms, and I will lose
All thoughts, but of almighty Love and thee.
15
(Tost by the fury of the angry Main:)
Secure and safe are in the Harbour cast,
And never, never venture out again.
[Exeunt.
Scene an open Garden.
Enter Angelline with her Mother.
Mo.
I've dropt my Husband in the crowd, and this is the
Walk, my Lord Alberto promis'd to meet me in:
Come hither Angelline! hold up thy head Child! ah! thy
Mothers own Twincle! well, fifteen
Must be provided for, I see that.
An.
I do not understand you.
Mo.
No matter for that, I understand enough in this point
For us both, Child: if you have but the Grace to be rul'd?
An.
I hope I have ever been obedient.
Mo.
Ay. 'Twill be the better for you: say your Prayers duely,
And take your Mothers advice along with you,
And you may come to keep your Coach one day.
An.
Alas! I am contented with my poor Condition,
And would not, if I might, be what you say;
And see my good old Father go on foot.
Mo.
No Angelline, He and I, and all of us shall ride, if you
Will be instructed to raise us. You know the Lord Alberto?
An.
Him, that you shew'd me walking with the Duke.
Mo.
Ay there's a man for you: to my certain knowledg
He's directly in Love with thee.
An.
So indeed the Lord Lorenzo tells me, he loves me;
And tho I am more inclin'd to credit him,
Yet I am far from thinking of it true.
Mo.
Come, you shall love both.
An.
That's impossible! both cannot marry me.
Mo.
Marry you, no matter for that; but both may serve
Your turn a great deal better, another way:
Come Angelline. Thy Father's poor, thy Beauty's
Thy portion, and manage it to the best advantage.
An.
Poor as I am, I scorn to be a Whore.
Mo.
Bless me! how can you expect to thrive with such
Abominable, ungodly words in your mouth, Child?
A Whore, fy, fy don't think of the indecent thing,
But as I was saying, there will be beauty enough at
Five and Twenty, to throw away upon a Husband;
Then if you should chance to tarnish, or grow rusty in the
Wearing, (as Beauty alass! is but a flower, and flowers
Will fade.) 'tis but the Matrimony dip at last, and you
Appear agen as fresh, with as glossy a Complexion, as
You had never been blown on, and no harm done—I think
14
Oh! 'Tis my unseasonable Husband agen, that out of a starving principle of
Honesty, will neither stir himself, nor suffer me to labour in the lawful Occupation
of a Mother for the advantage of a poor Child.
[weeps.
Enter Rogero.
Rog.
Oh! have I found you! 'Tis very well—A pox o' these
Hot Countries. There's no taking a mouthful of Air,
Without the venture of being choak'd with the flies:
How they swarm in every walk! Coxcombs of every size,
And Nation! from the impertinence of the French,
Down to the leaden figure of a Dutchman.
Enter Squire, Poet, and Bully.
An.
Who have we here?
Rog.
The very Picture of folly in leading-strings! now by his
Countenance I should guess there has not been an ounce of
Brains in the Family, since his Fathers great Grandfather
Mortgag'd his, to the purchasing a Title.
An.
Of what Sir? a Fool! does that bear such a value in
The World?
Rog.
O Child! none but our swinging Estates can come up
To the price on't: our Lords buy by the whole piece,
So that a poor man can hardly come in
For a remnant of that Commodity.
An.
Methinks I should not covet to forestal their Markets.
Rog.
Ah. Thy Fathers own Daughter to a hair! nay, thou hast a tang of
thy Mother in thee too, I'll say that for thee Angelline! Thou follow'st good Example:
she might have been a Lady, as she says: But no matter for that; she
was wiser as I take it: For I' gad I was a Swinger in those Days: Let me—I
cou'd have done—I do'nt know what I could have done.—But 'tis past
time a day with me now: come, let's home, or these Vermin will be biting.
Squire.
Well, well. Let me alone I warrant you I break her Heart Boys: But
heark you Poet! you'll stand by me and prompt upon occasion: While you with
your Whiskers terrify my Mistris into silence and attention.
Squire advances between his Poet and Bully.
An.
The thing comes towards us.
Squire.
Now—will I be Alexander the Great; and with thy right hand, my
Poets Brains, and my own Estate, beat down the fortifications of these Amazons,
and ravish to the end of the Chapter.
Bul.
Bear up Sir.
Squire.
Soft, and fair: A General should not be hot-headed you know:
Poet, where are you?
Poet.
Now Sir,—Bright as &c.
[prompting.
Squire.
Ay, ay:
Bright as the Virgin Tresses of the Day,
When Neptune scours the Sun-beams from the Sea.
When Neptune scours the Sun-beams from the Sea.
An.
What does he mean Sir?
Poet.
—My Eyes, &c.
[prompting agen.
Squire.
—My Eyes are scoarcht by your illustrious Face;
Like dry'd Tobacco by a burning-Glass.
16
There's Poetry for you.
Squire.
Ay, there's Poetry for you.
Rog.
Sir, I am poor enough to pretend Acquaintance to the Muses; but I confess
I do'nt understand you. Therefore without your Tresses, Sun-beams,
and your Neptunes, I ask you what you would have?
Bully., Squire.
Have Sir?
Rog.
Ay, have Sir!
Squire.
Prithee Bully Whiskers tell him you—
I am not much for fighting.
[walks off
Bully.
Why! may be nothing Sir. What then Sir?
Rog.
Why then I am satisfy'd.
Squire.
Why look you there. I knew he was a civil honest Fellow.
Bully.
Pox, he knows his men.
Squire.
Hark thee old Lad. I have a great mind to be better acquainted with
thee. Prithee now, if a man may be so bold; What a Pox art thou?
Rog.
What am I! why I am nothing, have nothing, care for nothing, nor
depend on nothing.
Poet.
He comes of a very Ancient Family.
Squire.
Nothing say'st thou? why then I gad I'll have the honour of thy
Creation: But first here's mony for thee: Now thou art Pimp-master in ord'nary
to my Family, from this day forward; and begin thy Office upon that same
little Gipsie there.
Rog.
Oh I am proud that I have a Daughter for you; but I intend to give you
the first fruits of my service gratis. And return your Gold to these Rascals, that
deserve it for keeping you company. And this to your Worship.
[kicks him.
Squire.
Nay if you are thereabouts, your Servant!
Rog.
As you like me, reward me!
Bully.
Come away! Sir, 'tis a poor old mad fellow, and is not worth your
anger; and Faith it goes against my Conscience to murder him, when he has
bid so high for my Friendship. Else by the threshold of Mahomets Temple.—
Poet.
Let him alone, I am big with Madrigal and will prostitute his Daughter
to a Tinker in my next Lampoon.
Rog.
This will elevate your Imagination
[Draws and scours 'em off.
Enter Alberto.
Alb.
Rogero! what my old Bully of Sixty five.
Levying War with thy Regiments of years about thee! what's the matter?
Rog.
The matter, my Lord! why every thing's the matter.
The Coxcomb was in the matter in provoking me; and I was in the matter for
beating the Coxcomb about the matter, that in the whole matter it is not a farthing
matter, whether there had been any matter or no.
Alb.
Very well: but prithee what pretty Creature is that there?
Rog.
Where Sir? who Sir? my Wife Sir?
What have you to say to my Wife Sir?
Moth.
More than you imagin.
[aside.
Alber.
Nothing, nothing, I man!
Rog.
Nothing my Lord! why let me tell you my Lord, She has been—
Alb.
Ay, and is still Rogero, a good old Geneva print for you that use Spectacles:
17
Eyes, and would fain know
Who this lovely young thing is?
Rog.
Lovely did you say! I'gad and you are i'th right on't:
There's a Wench for you.
A Mistris for an Emperour, by Jupiter! my own picture
To a Hair! A Rogue, there's a shape, there's a face,
Then her Eyes and Lips; see how they blubb and pout, and
Twitter and swell at you!
Alb.
Rogero! I'll make bold, and tast your fruit.
[kisses Ang.
Rogero going between Alberto and Angelline.
Rog.
So much for Civility: And now my Lord, I am sorry for't,
But this same idle Girl of mine, this same, what you will,
This Chit, this any thing, has suck'd such a foolish principle
From her Mother, I am asham'd on't.
Alb.
Prithee Rogero; what is't?
Rog.
Why I am sorry for't, but I vow to gad she is not for your turn.
Alb.
What dost thou mean?
Rog.
Only out of stark Love, and kindness, that a Person of your
Quality should lose his labour, for to my certain
Knowledg, she is most damnably honest;
Come away Angelline. Come away Child.
Alb.
I do not understand thee.
Rog.
Nor do I intend to explain at present: but my Lord
You'll pardon me. I know nothing of the matter;
My Wife must answer it, it lies at her door.
[Ex. Rog. and Ang.
Alb.
He knows nothing of my design:
Mo.
'Tis only his humour.
Alb.
Pox on him! how came he here to disturb us?
Mo.
He met us, at Chappel.
Alb.
Nay, if our Saints prove no better friends to the intreagues
Of this World, we shall soon fall off the zeal of
Our devotion to them.
But tell me, when shall be the happy hour?
The fragrant infancy of opening flowers,
Flow'd to my senses in that melting kiss:
O! I am wild, impatient as desire,
To force the blushing Beauty to my Bosome,
And there dissolve it to the Balm of Love,
Speak, tell me, when! oh when?
Mo.
Alas, my Lord! you think I have done nothing for you!
Have not I? When Nature, Conscience,—
Alb.
I know thou hast: nay nay, here's the best Recipe for
A troublesom Conscience in Christendom
[gives a Purse.
Probatum est. I warrant it good, Mother.
Mo.
Well: I am asham'd of your Bounty; but you are so
Winning a Person, you might ha' commanded me without
A Reward. But to morrow my Lord, you shall see her:
18
You are a vertuous person, and will scorn to take
The advantage of her weakness.
Alb.
Not in the least, do not doubt me.
[Ex. Mother.
So, this Conquest's sure; now for Alphonso's Wife,
That suffering Martyr to a wedded Life;
If her false vertue be not to be sold,
Farewel our surest Panders, power and gold.
[Exit.
Reenter Angelline and Juliana.
Jul.
Come, come! I know you love him: Alberto is
A very Master in the Arts of Love:
Practis'd in all the soft bewitching wayes,
That find the weakness of a Womans heart;
Therefore without a blush you may confess it.
An.
I would hide something from you willingly.
Jul.
Tell me, is there not something in your heart pleads strongly for him?
An.
If something from without
Did not plead more, his cause were desperate.
Jul.
Indeed I hear your Mother favours him.
An.
Would I could say, 'twere false.
Jul.
You came to meet him here.
Ang.
My Mother I believe had so design'd:
For as we came from Chappel with my Father,
She watcht her time, and lost him in the Crowd.
Jul.
Does he allow it?
An.
No; he forewarns me of him.
Jul.
And be advis'd: fly from his Charms betimes,
There is no other safety: if you think
To stand, and guard the passes to your heart;
You are undone: Oh! I have heard him talk,
Like the first Child of Love, when every word
Spoke in his eyes, and wept to be believed,
And all to ruine me: had I more time
To tell my story out, 'twould move your pity:
But yonder comes your Father!
I'll see you suddenly agen: Farewel.
[Exit Juliana.
Enter Lorenzo and Rogero to Angelline.
Loren.
Rogero, I am well acquainted with thy worth:
Have studyed thee; observ'd thee in our Wars,
Where the hard chance of Fortune, threw thy Lot
Among the meanest of our Souldiery;
Unheeded, friendless, destitute of all;
Till that blunt spirit of thy honesty,
And forwardness to all attempts of honour,
Forc'd back thy fate, and made thy vertue known.
Rog.
Yes. I have been a Souldier; and have been rewarded too:
Had promises for pay.
And starv'd for the honour of my profession.
19
Well: all shall be amended; come to Court
And but apply thy self to our great Duke,
And thou shalt find a Prince, whose vertue will
Redeem thee from the smart of poverty;
Reward thy merits with an open hand,
And nurse thy wanting age with ease, and plenty.
Rog.
My Lord! you know me: And I know my self; you bid
God bless the Duke, I cry Amen; with all my heart; so far
We're right: But here I leave you; not one step further, not an Inch my Lord
I am not for the Court, not I my Lord; there's a ruggedness in my nature will
not let me sell the freedom of my Mind, to feed my body: No, when I see a
Fool, I must laugh at him; not sooth him in his vanity, nor tickle him, till he
wheeze, and give me an advantage of creeping to his pocket.
Lor.
But thy family, Rogero.
Rog.
Ay, my Daughter here: why y'are in the right on't agen, well I confess
I should be glad my Angelline were provided for; But I can neither pimp, flatter
or lye for a portion for her.
Lor.
Nor shalt thou need it: here, Rogero, cherish
Thy Daughters vertuous thoughts, nor let
Her wants betray her to Dishonor.
Rog.
My Lord: You should be honest.
But the honesty of this purse is no better than it
Should be: why, how many reverend Matrons has this
Corrupted into Bawds; 'Tis as sure a Damnation to a
Maiden-head, as fifteen, wit and a good face: But
Tempter, I defie thee; and tho it is reasonable I
Should be a Rogue for this; I'd have you to know I scorn the Office.
Lor.
Away, away, do not suspect my friendship:
On all occasions use me, as thy purse;
That shall be open to thee, depend upon me,
And leave thy Daughters fortune to my care.
Rog.
Angelline! dost hear that Child! Th'art made for ever.
Lor.
Rogero! that Alberto, whom you spoke of
Runs in my thoughts: dost hear me; watch him close.
Observe him well: his favour with the Duke,
Passes those Actions currant to the world,
Which in an other man, were foul and monstrous:
Therefore beware of him! no more; farewel.
Rog.
My Lord! Your servant: But as I was saying, he has
The Christian Liberty of the Common to ramble in
As much as he pleases, and welcome: But if he be for
Leaping into inclosures: If he come to pasture in
My Ground; at his peril, at his peril, by Jupiter;
That's all, that's all: Your Servant my Lord, your Servant.
[Exit cum Angelline.
Lor.
She's gone, and all my thoughts are up in Arms,
Like wanton Citizens in Luxury,
Thronging in factious Parties, to their cause,
Resolv'd and headlong for their Liberties,
20
Of that soft temper, that the eye of Beauty
Can melt me from the Image of a Man,
Into the fondness of a Womans fool:
Yet if I am fated to a Marriage life,
My happiness were pure in Angelline;
In whom the infancy of Innocence,
In blushing vertue triumphs o'er agen,
But then the World! Why let the babling World
Report it as they please. Let Interest wed
The drudgery of a vexatious Bed;
Dayes without peace, and Nights without desire,
Still toil, and sweat away their youth for hire.
Whilst safe in Innocence, and Truth; I taste
The sweets of Love, fresh running to the last.
[Exit.
| The Disappointment : or the Mother in Fashion | |